ANDREW LANG'S FAIRY BOOKS

La Belle et la Bete. Par Madame
de Villeneuve

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

ONCE upon a time, in a very far-off country, there lived a merchant who had
been so fortunate in all his undertakings that he was enormously rich. As he
had, however, six sons and six daughters, he found that his money was not too
much to let them all have everything they fancied, as they were accustomed to
do.

But one day a most unexpected misfortune befell them. Their house caught fire
and was speedily burnt to the ground, with all the splendid furniture, the books,
pic- tures, gold, silver, and precious goods it contained; and this was only
the beginning of their troubles. Their father, who had until this moment prospered
in all ways, suddenly lost every ship he had upon the sea, either by dint of
pirates, shipwreck, or fire. Then he heard that his clerks in distant countries,
whom he trusted entirely, had proved unfaithful; and at last from great wealth
he fell into the direst poverty.

All that he had left was a little house in a desolate place at least a hundred
leagues from the town in which he had lived, and to this he was forced to retreat
with his children, who were in despair at the idea of leading such a different
life. Indeed, the daughters at first hoped that their friends, who had been
so numerous while they were rich, would insist on their staying in their houses
now they no longer possessed one. But they soon found that they were left alone,
and that their former friends even attributed their misfortunes to their own
extravagance, and showed no intention of offering them any help. So nothing
was left for them but to take their departure to the cottage, which stood in
the midst of a dark forest, and seemed to be the most dismal place upon the
face of the earth. As they were too poor to have any servants, the girls had
to work hard, like peasants, and the sons, for their part, cultivated the fields
to earn their living. Roughly clothed, and living in the simplest way, the girls
regretted unceasingly the luxuries and amusements of their former life; only
the youngest tried to be brave and cheerful. She had been as sad as anyone when
misfortune overtook her father, but, soon recovering her natural gaiety, she
set to work to make the best of things, to amuse her father and brothers as
well as she could, and to try to persuade her sisters to join her in dancing
and singing. But they would do nothing of the sort, and, because she was not
as doleful as themselves, they declared that this miserable life was all she
was fit for. But she was really far prettier and cleverer than they were; indeed,
she was so lovely that she was always called Beauty. After two years, when they
were all beginning to get used to their new life, something happened to disturb
their tranquillity. Their father received the news that one of his ships, which
he had believed to be lost, had come safely into port with a rich cargo. All
the sons and daughters at once thought that their poverty was at an end, and
wanted to set out directly for the town; but their father, who was more prudent,
begged them to wait a little, and, though it was harvest time, and he could
ill be spared, determined to go himself first, to make inquiries. Only the youngest
daughter had any doubt but that they would soon again be as rich as they were
before, or at least rich enough to live comfortably in some town where they
would find amusement and gay companions once more. So they all loaded their
father with commissions for jewels and dresses which it would have taken a fortune
to buy; only Beauty, feeling sure that it was of no use, did not ask for anything.
Her father, noticing her silence, said: "And what shall I bring for you,
Beauty?"

"The only thing I wish for is to see you come home safely," she answered.

But this only vexed her sisters, who fancied she was blaming them for having
asked for such costly things. Her father, however, was pleased, but as he thought
that at her age she certainly ought to like pretty presents, he told her to
choose something.

"Well, dear father," she said, "as you insist upon it, I beg
that you will bring me a rose. I have not seen one since we came here, and I
love them so much."

So the merchant set out and reached the town as quickly as possible, but only
to find that his former companions, believing him to be dead, had divided between
them the goods which the ship had brought; and after six months of trouble and
expense he found himself as poor as when he started, having been able to recover
only just enough to pay the cost of his journey. To make matters worse, he was
obliged to leave the town in the most terrible weather, so that by the time
he was within a few leagues of his home he was almost exhausted with cold and
fatigue. Though he knew it would take some hours to get through the forest,
he was so anxious to be at his journey's end that he resolved to go on; but
night overtook him, and the deep snow and bitter frost made it impossible for
his horse to carry him any further. Not a house was to be seen; the only shelter
he could get was the hollow trunk of a great tree, and there he crouched all
the night which seemed to him the longest he had ever known. In spite of his
weariness the howling of the wolves kept him awake, and even when at last the
day broke he was not much better off, for the falling snow had covered up every
path, and he did not know which way to turn.

At length he made out some sort of track, and though at the beginning it was
so rough and slippery that he fell down more than once, it presently became
easier, and led him into an avenue of trees which ended in a splendid castle.
It seemed to the merchant very strange that no snow had fallen in the avenue,
which was entirely composed of orange trees, covered with flowers and fruit.
When he reached the first court of the castle he saw before him a flight of
agate steps, and went up them, and passed through several splendidly furnished
rooms. The pleasant warmth of the air revived him, and he felt very hungry;
but there seemed to be nobody in all this vast and splendid palace whom he could
ask to give him something to eat. Deep silence reigned everywhere, and at last,
tired of roaming through empty rooms and galleries, he stopped in a room smaller
than the rest, where a clear fire was burning and a couch was drawn up closely
to it. Thinking that this must be prepared for someone who was expected, he
sat down to wait till he should come, and very soon fell into a sweet sleep.

When his extreme hunger wakened him after several hours, he was still alone;
but a little table, upon which was a good dinner, had been drawn up close to
him, and, as he had eaten nothing for twenty-four hours, he lost no time in
beginning his meal, hoping that he might soon have an opportunity of thanking
his considerate entertainer, whoever it might be. But no one appeared, and even
after another long sleep, from which he awoke completely refreshed, there was
no sign of anybody, though a fresh meal of dainty cakes and fruit was prepared
upon the little table at his elbow. Being naturally timid, the silence began
to terrify him, and he resolved to search once more through all the rooms; but
it was of no use. Not even a servant was to be seen; there was no sign of life
in the palace! He began to wonder what he should do, and to amuse himself by
pretending that all the treasures he saw were his own, and considering how he
would divide them among his children. Then he went down into the garden, and
though it was winter everywhere else, here the sun shone, and the birds sang,
and the flowers bloomed, and the air was soft and sweet. The merchant, in ecstacies
with all he saw and heard, said to himself:

"All this must be meant for me. I will go this minute and bring my children
to share all these delights."

In spite of being so cold and weary when he reached the castle, he had taken
his horse to the stable and fed it. Now he thought he would saddle it for his
homeward journey, and he turned down the path which led to the stable. This
path had a hedge of roses on each side of it, and the merchant thought he had
never seen or smelt such exquisite flowers. They reminded him of his promise
to Beauty, and he stopped and had just gathered one to take to her when he was
startled by a strange noise behind him. Turning round, he saw a frightful Beast,
which seemed to be very angry and said, in a terrible voice:

"Who told you that you might gather my roses? Was it not enough that I
allowed you to be in my palace and was kind to you? This is the way you show
your gratitude, by stealing my flowers! But your insolence shall not go unpunished."
The merchant, terrified by these furious words, dropped the fatal rose, and,
throwing himself on his knees, cried: "Pardon me, noble sir. I am truly
grateful to you for your hospitality, which was so magnificent that I could
not imagine that you would be offended by my taking such a little thing as a
rose." But the Beast's anger was not lessened by this speech.

"You are very ready with excuses and flattery," he cried; "but
that will not save you from the death you deserve."

"Alas!" thought the merchant, "if my daughter could only know
what danger her rose has brought me into!"

And in despair he began to tell the Beast all his misfortunes, and the reason
of his journey, not forgetting to mention Beauty s request.

"A king's ransom would hardly have procured all that my other daughters
asked." he said: "but I thought that I might at least take Beauty
her rose. I beg you to forgive me, for you see I meant no harm."

The Beast considered for a moment, and then he said, in a less furious tone:

"I will forgive you on one condition--that is, that you will give me one
of your daughters."

"Ah!" cried the merchant, "if I were cruel enough to buy my
own life at the expense of one of my children's, what excuse could I invent
to bring her here?"

"No excuse would be necessary," answered the Beast. "If she
comes at all she must come willingly. On no other condition will I have her.
See if any one of them is courageous enough, and loves you well enough to come
and save your life. You seem to be an honest man, so I will trust you to go
home. I give you a month to see if either of your daughters will come back with
you and stay here, to let you go free. If neither of them is willing, you must
come alone, after bidding them good-by for ever, for then you will belong to
me. And do not imagine that you can hide from me, for if you fail to keep your
word I will come and fetch you!" added the Beast grimly.

The merchant accepted this proposal, though he did not really think any of
his daughters could be persuaded to come. He promised to return at the time
appointed, and then, anxious to escape from the presence of the Beast, he asked
permission to set off at once. But the Beast answered that he could not go until
next day.

"Then you will find a horse ready for you," he said. "Now go
and eat your supper, and await my orders."

The poor merchant, more dead than alive, went back to his room, where the most
delicious supper was already served on the little table which was drawn up before
a blazing fire. But he was too terrified to eat, and only tasted a few of the
dishes, for fear the Beast should be angry if he did not obey his orders. When
he had finished he heard a great noise in the next room, which he knew meant
that the Beast was coming. As he could do nothing to escape his visit, the only
thing that remained was to seem as little afraid as possible; so when the Beast
appeared and asked roughly if he had supped well, the merchant answered humbly
that he had, thanks to his host's kindness. Then the Beast warned him to remember
their agreement, and to prepare his daughter exactly for what she had to expect.

"Do not get up to-morrow," he added, "until you see the sun
and hear a golden bell ring. Then you will find your breakfast waiting for you
here, and the horse you are to ride will be ready in the courtyard. He will
also bring you back again when you come with your daughter a month hence. Farewell.
Take a rose to Beauty, and remember your promise!"

The merchant was only too glad when the Beast went away, and though he could
not sleep for sadness, he lay down until the sun rose. Then, after a hasty breakfast,
he went to gather Beauty's rose, and mounted his horse, which carried him off
so swiftly that in an instant he had lost sight of the palace, and he was still
wrapped in gloomy thoughts when it stopped before the door of the cottage.

His sons and daughters, who had been very uneasy at his long absence, rushed
to meet him, eager to know the result of his journey, which, seeing him mounted
upon a splendid horse and wrapped in a rich mantle, they supposed to be favorable.
He hid the truth from them at first, only saying sadly to Beauty as he gave
her the rose:

"Here is what you asked me to bring you; you little know what it has cost."

But this excited their curiosity so greatly that presently he told them his
adventures from beginning to end, and then they were all very unhappy. The girls
lamented loudly over their lost hopes, and the sons declared that their father
should not return to this terrible castle, and began to make plans for killing
the Beast if it should come to fetch him. But he reminded them that he had promised
to go back. Then the girls were very angry with Beauty, and said it was all
her fault, and that if she had asked for something sensible this would never
have happened, and complained bitterly that they should have to suffer for her
folly.

Poor Beauty, much distressed, said to them:

"I have, indeed, caused this misfortune, but I assure you I did it innocently.
Who could have guessed that to ask for a rose in the middle of summer would
cause so much misery? But as I did the mischief it is only just that I should
suffer for it. I will therefore go back with my father to keep his promise."

At first nobody would hear of this arrangement, and her father and brothers,
who loved her dearly, declared that nothing should make them let her go; but
Beauty was firm. As the time drew near she divided all her little possessions
between her sisters, and said good-by to everything she loved, and when the
fatal day came she encouraged and cheered her father as they mounted together
the horse which had brought him back. It seemed to fly rather than gallop, but
so smoothly that Beauty was not frightened; indeed, she would have enjoyed the
journey if she had not feared what might happen to her at the end of it. Her
father still tried to persuade her to go back, but in vain. While they were
talking the night fell, and then, to their great surprise, wonderful colored
lights began to shine in all directions, and splendid fireworks blazed out before
them; all the forest was illuminated by them, and even felt pleasantly warm,
though it had been bitterly cold before. This lasted until they reached the
avenue of orange trees, where were statues holding flaming torches, and when
they got nearer to the palace they saw that it was illuminated from the roof
to the ground, and music sounded softly from the courtyard. "The Beast
must be very hungry," said Beauty, trying to laugh, "if he makes all
this rejoicing over the arrival of his prey.

But, in spite of her anxiety, she could not help admiring all the wonderful
things she saw.

The horse stopped at the foot of the flight of steps leading to the terrace,
and when they had dismounted her father led her to the little room he had been
in before, where they found a splendid fire burning, and the table daintily
spread with a delicious supper.

The merchant knew that this was meant for them, and Beauty, who was rather
less frightened now that she had passed through so many rooms and seen nothing
of the Beast, was quite willing to begin, for her long ride had made her very
hungry. But they had hardly finished their meal when the noise of the Beast's
footsteps was heard approaching, and Beauty clung to her father in terror, which
became all the greater when she saw how frightened he was. But when the Beast
really appeared, though she trembled at the sight of him, she made a great effort
to hide her terror, and saluted him respectfully.

This evidently pleased the Beast. After looking at her he said, in a tone that
might have struck terror into the boldest heart, though he did not seem to be
angry:

"Good-evening, old man. Good-evening, Beauty."

The merchant was too terrified to reply, but Beauty answered sweetly: "Good-evening,
Beast."

"Have you come willingly?" asked the Beast. "Will you be content
to stay here when your father goes away?"

Beauty answered bravely that she was quite prepared to stay.

"I am pleased with you," said the Beast. "As you have come of
your own accord, you may stay. As for you, old man," he added, turning
to the merchant, "at sunrise to- morrow you will take your departure. When
the bell rings get up quickly and eat your breakfast, and you will find the
same horse waiting to take you home; but remember that you must never expect
to see my palace again."

Then turning to Beauty, he said:

"Take your father into the next room, and help him to choose everything
you think your brothers and sisters would like to have. You will find two traveling-trunks
there; fill them as full as you can. It is only just that you should send them
something very precious as a remembrance of yourself."

Then he went away, after saying, "Good-by, Beauty; good-by, old man";
and though Beauty was beginning to think with great dismay of her father's departure,
she was afraid to disobey the Beast's orders; and they went into the next room,
which had shelves and cupboards all round it. They were greatly surprised at
the riches it contained. There were splendid dresses fit for a queen, with all
the ornaments that were to be worn with them; and when Beauty opened the cupboards
she was quite dazzled by the gorgeous jewels that lay in heaps upon every shelf.
After choosing a vast quantity, which she divided between her sisters--for she
had made a heap of the wonderful dresses for each of them--she opened the last
chest, which was full of gold.

"I think, father," she said, "that, as the gold will be more
useful to you, we had better take out the other things again, and fill the trunks
with it." So they did this; but the more they put in the more room there
seemed to be, and at last they put back all the jewels and dresses they had
taken out, and Beauty even added as many more of the jewels as she could carry
at once; and then the trunks were not too full, but they were so heavy that
an elephant could not have carried them!

"The Beast was mocking us," cried the merchant; "he must have
pretended to give us all these things, knowing that I could not carry them away."

"Let us wait and see," answered Beauty. "I cannot believe that
he meant to deceive us. All we can do is to fasten them up and leave them ready."

So they did this and returned to the little room, where, to their astonishment,
they found breakfast ready. The merchant ate his with a good appetite, as the
Beast's generosity made him believe that he might perhaps venture to come back
soon and see Beauty. But she felt sure that her father was leaving her for ever,
so she was very sad when the bell rang sharply for the second time, and warned
them that the time had come for them to part. They went down into the courtyard,
where two horses were waiting, one loaded with the two trunks, the other for
him to ride. They were pawing the ground in their impatience to start, and the
merchant was forced to bid Beauty a hasty farewell; and as soon as he was mounted
he went off at such a pace that she lost sight of him in an instant. Then Beauty
began to cry, and wandered sadly back to her own room. But she soon found that
she was very sleepy, and as she had nothing better to do she lay down and instantly
fell asleep. And then she dreamed that she was walking by a brook bordered with
trees, and lamenting her sad fate, when a young prince, handsomer than anyone
she had ever seen, and with a voice that went straight to her heart, came and
said to her, "Ah, Beauty! you are not so unfortunate as you suppose. Here
you will be rewarded for all you have suffered elsewhere. Your every wish shall
be gratified. Only try to find me out, no matter how I may be disguised, as
I love you dearly, and in making me happy you will find your own happiness.
Be as true-hearted as you are beautiful, and we shall have nothing left to wish
for."

"What can I do, Prince, to make you happy?" said Beauty.

"Only be grateful," he answered, "and do not trust too much
to your eyes. And, above all, do not desert me until you have saved me from
my cruel misery."

After this she thought she found herself in a room with a stately and beautiful
lady, who said to her:

"Dear Beauty, try not to regret all you have left behind you, for you
are destined to a better fate. Only do not let yourself be deceived by appearances."

Beauty found her dreams so interesting that she was in no hurry to awake, but
presently the clock roused her by calling her name softly twelve times, and
then she got up and found her dressing-table set out with everything she could
possibly want; and when her toilet was finished she found dinner was waiting
in the room next to hers. But dinner does not take very long when you are all
by yourself, and very soon she sat down cosily in the corner of a sofa, and
began to think about the charming Prince she had seen in her dream.

"He said I could make him happy," said Beauty to herself.

"It seems, then, that this horrible Beast keeps him a prisoner. How can
I set him free? I wonder why they both told me not to trust to appearances?
I don't understand it. But, after all, it was only a dream, so why should I
trouble myself about it? I had better go and find something to do to amuse myself."

So she got up and began to explore some of the many rooms of the palace.

The first she entered was lined with mirrors, and Beauty saw herself reflected
on every side, and thought she had never seen such a charming room. Then a bracelet
which was hanging from a chandelier caught her eye, and on taking it down she
was greatly surprised to find that it held a portrait of her unknown admirer,
just as she had seen him in her dream. With great delight she slipped the bracelet
on her arm, and went on into a gallery of pictures, where she soon found a portrait
of the same handsome Prince, as large as life, and so well painted that as she
studied it he seemed to smile kindly at her. Tearing herself away from the portrait
at last, she passed through into a room which contained every musical instrument
under the sun, and here she amused herself for a long while in trying some of
them, and singing until she was tired. The next room was a library, and she
saw everything she had ever wanted to read, as well as everything she had read,
and it seemed to her that a whole lifetime would not be enough to even read
the names of the books, there were so many. By this time it was growing dusk,
and wax candles in diamond and ruby candlesticks were beginning to light themselves
in every room.

Beauty found her supper served just at the time she preferred to have it, but
she did not see anyone or hear a sound, and, though her father had warned her
that she would be alone, she began to find it rather dull.

But presently she heard the Beast coming, and wondered tremblingly if he meant
to eat her up now.

However, as he did not seem at all ferocious, and only said gruffly:

"Good-evening, Beauty," she answered cheerfully and managed to conceal
her terror. Then the Beast asked her how she had been amusing herself, and she
told him all the rooms she had seen.

Then he asked if she thought she could be happy in his palace; and Beauty answered
that everything was so beautiful that she would be very hard to please if she
could not be happy. And after about an hour's talk Beauty began to think that
the Beast was not nearly so terrible as she had supposed at first. Then he got
up to leave her, and said in his gruff voice:

"Do you love me, Beauty? Will you marry me?"

"Oh! what shall I say?" cried Beauty, for she was afraid to make
the Beast angry by refusing.

"Say `yes' or `no' without fear," he replied.

"Oh! no, Beast," said Beauty hastily.

"Since you will not, good-night, Beauty," he said.

And she answered, "Good-night, Beast," very glad to find that her
refusal had not provoked him. And after he was gone she was very soon in bed
and asleep, and dreaming of her unknown Prince. She thought he came and said
to her:

"Ah, Beauty! why are you so unkind to me? I fear I am fated to be unhappy
for many a long day still."

And then her dreams changed, but the charming Prince figured in them all; and
when morning came her first thought was to look at the portrait, and see if
it was really like him, and she found that it certainly was.

This morning she decided to amuse herself in the garden, for the sun shone,
and all the fountains were playing; but she was astonished to find that every
place was familiar to her, and presently she came to the brook where the myrtle
trees were growing where she had first met the Prince in her dream, and that
made her think more than ever that he must be kept a prisoner by the Beast.
When she was tired she went back to the palace, and found a new room full of
materials for every kind of work--ribbons to make into bows, and silks to work
into flowers. Then there was an aviary full of rare birds, which were so tame
that they flew to Beauty as soon as they saw her, and perched upon her shoulders
and her head.

"Pretty little creatures," she said, "how I wish that your cage
was nearer to my room, that I might often hear you sing!

So saying she opened a door, and found, to her delight, that it led into her
own room, though she had thought it was quite the other side of the palace.

There were more birds in a room farther on, parrots and cockatoos that could
talk, and they greeted Beauty by name; indeed, she found them so entertaining
that she took one or two back to her room, and they talked to her while she
was at supper; after which the Beast paid her his usual visit, and asked her
the same questions as before, and then with a gruff "good-night" he
took his departure, and Beauty went to bed to dream of her mysterious Prince.
The days passed swiftly in different amusements, and after a while Beauty found
out another strange thing in the palace, which often pleased her when she was
tired of being alone. There was one room which she had not noticed particularly;
it was empty, except that under each of the windows stood a very comfortable
chair; and the first time she had looked out of the window it had seemed to
her that a black curtain prevented her from seeing anything outside. But the
second time she went into the room, happening to be tired, she sat down in one
of the chairs, when instantly the curtain was rolled aside, and a most amusing
pantomime was acted before her; there were dances, and colored lights, and music,
and pretty dresses, and it was all so gay that Beauty was in ecstacies. After
that she tried the other seven windows in turn, and there was some new and surprising
entertainment to be seen from each of them, so that Beauty never could feel
lonely any more. Every evening after supper the Beast came to see her, and always
before saying good-night asked her in his terrible voice:

"Beauty, will you marry me?"

And it seemed to Beauty, now she understood him better, that when she said,
"No, Beast," he went away quite sad. But her happy dreams of the handsome
young Prince soon made her forget the poor Beast, and the only thing that at
all disturbed her was to be constantly told to distrust appearances, to let
her heart guide her, and not her eyes, and many other equally perplexing things,
which, consider as she would, she could not understand.

So everything went on for a long time, until at last, happy as she was, Beauty
began to long for the sight of her father and her brothers and sisters; and
one night, seeing her look very sad, the Beast asked her what was the matter.
Beauty had quite ceased to be afraid of him. Now she knew that he was really
gentle in spite of his ferocious looks and his dreadful voice. So she answered
that she was longing to see her home once more. Upon hearing this the Beast
seemed sadly distressed, and cried miserably.

"Ah! Beauty, have you the heart to desert an unhappy Beast like this?
What more do you want to make you happy? Is it because you hate me that you
want to escape?"

"No, dear Beast," answered Beauty softly, "I do not hate you,
and I should be very sorry never to see you any more, but I long to see my father
again. Only let me go for two months, and I promise to come back to you and
stay for the rest of my life."

The Beast, who had been sighing dolefully while she spoke, now replied:

"I cannot refuse you anything you ask, even though it should cost me my
life. Take the four boxes you will find in the room next to your own, and fill
them with everything you wish to take with you. But remember your promise and
come back when the two months are over, or you may have cause to repent it,
for if you do not come in good time you will find your faithful Beast dead.
You will not need any chariot to bring you back. Only say good-by to all your
brothers and sisters the night before you come away, and when you have gone
to bed turn this ring round upon your finger and say firmly: `I wish to go back
to my palace and see my Beast again.' Good-night, Beauty. Fear nothing, sleep
peacefully, and before long you shall see your father once more."

As soon as Beauty was alone she hastened to fill the boxes with all the rare
and precious things she saw about her, and only when she was tired of heaping
things into them did they seem to be full.

Then she went to bed, but could hardly sleep for joy. And when at last she
did begin to dream of her beloved Prince she was grieved to see him stretched
upon a grassy bank, sad and weary, and hardly like himself.

"What is the matter?" she cried.

He looked at her reproachfully, and said:

"How can you ask me, cruel one? Are you not leaving me to my death perhaps?"

"Ah! don't be so sorrowful," cried Beauty; "I am only going
to assure my father that I am safe and happy. I have promised the Beast faithfully
that I will come back, and he would die of grief if I did not keep my word!"

"What would that matter to you?" said the Prince "Surely you
would not care?"

"Indeed, I should be ungrateful if I did not care for such a kind Beast,"
cried Beauty indignantly. "I would die to save him from pain. I assure
you it is not his fault that he is so ugly."

Just then a strange sound woke her--someone was speaking not very far away;
and opening her eyes she found herself in a room she had never seen before,
which was certainly not nearly so splendid as those she was used to in the Beast's
palace. Where could she be? She got up and dressed hastily, and then saw that
the boxes she had packed the night before were all in the room. While she was
wondering by what magic the Beast had transported them and herself to this strange
place she suddenly heard her father's voice, and rushed out and greeted him
joyfully. Her brothers and sisters were all astonished at her appearance, as
they had never expected to see her again, and there was no end to the questions
they asked her. She had also much to hear about what had happened to them while
she was away, and of her father's journey home. But when they heard that she
had only come to be with them for a short time, and then must go back to the
Beast's palace for ever, they lamented loudly. Then Beauty asked her father
what he thought could be the meaning of her strange dreams, and why the Prince
constantly begged her not to trust to appearances. After much consideration,
he answered: "You tell me yourself that the Beast, frightful as he is,
loves you dearly, and deserves your love and gratitude for his gentleness and
kindness; I think the Prince must mean you to understand that you ought to reward
him by doing as he wishes you to, in spite of his ugliness."

Beauty could not help seeing that this seemed very probable; still, when she
thought of her dear Prince who was so handsome, she did not feel at all inclined
to marry the Beast. At any rate, for two months she need not decide, but could
enjoy herself with her sisters. But though they were rich now, and lived in
town again, and had plenty of acquaintances, Beauty found that nothing amused
her very much; and she often thought of the palace, where she was so happy,
especially as at home she never once dreamed of her dear Prince, and she felt
quite sad without him.

Then her sisters seemed to have got quite used to being without her, and even
found her rather in the way, so she would not have been sorry when the two months
were over but for her father and brothers, who begged her to stay, and seemed
so grieved at the thought of her departure that she had not the courage to say
good-by to them. Every day when she got up she meant to say it at night, and
when night came she put it off again, until at last she had a dismal dream which
helped her to make up her mind. She thought she was wandering in a lonely path
in the palace gardens, when she heard groans which seemed to come from some
bushes hiding the entrance of a cave, and running quickly to see what could
be the matter, she found the Beast stretched out upon his side, apparently dying.
He reproached her faintly with being the cause of his distress, and at the same
moment a stately lady appeared, and said very gravely:

"Ah! Beauty, you are only just in time to save his life. See what happens
when people do not keep their promises! If you had delayed one day more, you
would have found him dead."

Beauty was so terrified by this dream that the next morning she announced her
intention of going back at once, and that very night she said good-by to her
father and all her brothers and sisters, and as soon as she was in bed she turned
her ring round upon her finger, and said firmly, "I wish to go back to
my palace and see my Beast again," as she had been told to do.

Then she fell asleep instantly, and only woke up to hear the clock saying "Beauty,
Beauty" twelve times in its musical voice, which told her at once that
she was really in the palace once more. Everything was just as before, and her
birds were so glad to see her! But Beauty thought she had never known such a
long day, for she was so anxious to see the Beast again that she felt as if
suppertime would never come.

But when it did come and no Beast appeared she was really frightened; so, after
listening and waiting for a long time, she ran down into the garden to search
for him. Up and down the paths and avenues ran poor Beauty, calling him in vain,
for no one answered, and not a trace of him could she find; until at last, quite
tired, she stopped for a minute's rest, and saw that she was standing opposite
the shady path she had seen in her dream. She rushed down it, and, sure enough,
there was the cave, and in it lay the Beast--asleep, as Beauty thought. Quite
glad to have found him, she ran up and stroked his head, but, to her horror,
he did not move or open his eyes.

"Oh! he is dead; and it is all my fault," said Beauty, crying bitterly.

But then, looking at him again, she fancied he still breathed, and, hastily
fetching some water from the near- est fountain, she sprinkled it over his face,
and, to her great delight, he began to revive.

"Oh! Beast, how you frightened me!" she cried. "I never knew
how much I loved you until just now, when I feared I was too late to save your
life."

"Can you really love such an ugly creature as I am?" said the Beast
faintly. "Ah! Beauty, you only came just in time. I was dying because I
thought you had forgotten your promise. But go back now and rest, I shall see
you again by and by."

Beauty, who had half expected that he would be angry with her, was reassured
by his gentle voice, and went back to the palace, where supper was awaiting
her; and afterward the Beast came in as usual, and talked about the time she
had spent with her father, asking if she had enjoyed herself, and if they had
all been very glad to see her.

Beauty answered politely, and quite enjoyed telling him all that had happened
to her. And when at last the time came for him to go, and he asked, as he had
so often asked before, "Beauty, will you marry me?"

She answered softly, "Yes, dear Beast."

As she spoke a blaze of light sprang up before the windows of the palace; fireworks
crackled and guns banged, and across the avenue of orange trees, in letters
all made of fire-flies, was written: "Long live the Prince and his Bride."

Turning to ask the Beast what it could all mean, Beauty found that he had disappeared,
and in his place stood her long-loved Prince! At the same moment the wheels
of a chariot were heard upon the terrace, and two ladies entered the room. One
of them Beauty recognized as the stately lady she had seen in her dreams; the
other was also so grand and queenly that Beauty hardly knew which to greet first.

But the one she already knew said to her companion:

"Well, Queen, this is Beauty, who has had the courage to rescue your son
from the terrible enchantment. They love one another, and only your consent
to their marriage is wanting to make them perfectly happy."

"I consent with all my heart," cried the Queen. "How can I ever
thank you enough, charming girl, for having restored my dear son to his natural
form?"

And then she tenderly embraced Beauty and the Prince, who had meanwhile been
greeting the Fairy and receiving her congratulations.

"Now," said the Fairy to Beauty, "I suppose you would like me
to send for all your brothers and sisters to dance at your wedding?"

And so she did, and the marriage was celebrated the very next day with the
utmost splendor, and Beauty and the Prince lived happily ever after.